


On the Walk Home

by yozra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week Day 2, BokuAka Week Day 4, BokuAka Week Day 5, BokuAka Week Day 7, BokuAka Week Day 9, Brief mention of past relationship with an oc, Canon Compliant, Confessions, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mixtape, Soulmates (as a conversation topic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yozra/pseuds/yozra
Summary: Side A: a new revelationSide B: an old revelation
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 33
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics quotations have been translated by me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mutual pining/obliviousness | roommates/moving in | ~~college au~~
> 
> SHUNKA SHUUTOU (spring, summer, autumn, winter) by Remioromen  
> [Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SN87-LSlnm4) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1F9Upl9Cb3bUiBrnc8DHqH?si=6PzGEDQ1RYaBybS6DfqUqA)

**Side A**

**Part I: Moving**

_Like spring smiling at the moon  
Like summer falling for fireworks  
Like autumn swallowing the sky  
Like winter whipping past and ahead, endlessly  
I fell in love with you  
I ended up falling in love with you  
_ —Remioromen, “SHUNKA SHUUTOU”

Akaashi remembered when he moved into his current home. He’d been thirteen, the move timed with him starting junior high school in spring. He remembered the jitters, unsure if it was from apprehension or excitement at starting life afresh. To avoid tainting his experience before it even started, he pinned the emotion down to concern – that his belongings would be thrown away during packing, accidentally or on purpose, while he was at school.  
  
He had four months to mentally prepare himself, and when it cut the two-month mark, objects around the home started to clear; after entering the last month, boxes became the furnishings. And though he was only hopping a few wards over, it felt like he’d be travelling to the other side of the country the way his classmates acted. More fussing ensued after the move – unpacking boxes, throwing more stuff away – and it had taken the rest of the year to settle in completely. (Thankfully, nothing had been missing – or at least not until three years later, when he wanted to reference some old magazines and found they had been thrown out.)  
  
This memory was the freshest (apparently he’d moved once before when he was two, but that memory was no longer accessible) and though a little blurry in places, he remembered his feelings clear enough that he should immediately have been able to tell if he was having a repeat experience. And he should definitely have been able to tell if someone – someone boisterous and lengthened the ‘a’s and ‘i’s in his surname to drag for the time it would take to say his full name twice – was moving in to the hidden place accessible to him and him alone, so easily shaken by outside forces, so easily stirred by fingers trailing along the walls pulsating fast or slow but never still, not until he breathed his last.  
  
But he hadn’t.  
  
Akaashi was walking beside Bokuto at the quiet crossover between fading sunlight and brightening lamplight, his thoughts consisting of how it would feel to walk this path in solitude. He used to think his greatest worry was living up to the title of captain; now he wondered how he would cope in the quiet, surrounded by respect from his team and their ‘san’ and ‘senpai’ because he gave off the impression he was no-nonsense and stern, when really he just wanted to encourage everyone to do their best and had a quirky sense of humour often misunderstood.  
  
And so he chased the rogue thought-ball bouncing out of the gymnasium into the corridor where he helped with the yakisoba bread run, and the library where he was interrupted during his studies, and the outside deck where he was asked for bites of his lunch, and the classroom where he would sit himself down only to be dragged up and out to accompany errands in some form or another. They would all be gone, and he would be left snatching whispers in bustling corridors and blocking ears to the echoes in the empty court as the ball rolled to a stop at his feet.  
  
Akaashi had no idea when or how his loud resident had slipped into a room with no openings, tucked himself comfortably in between sheets of fluttering emotions, and fell asleep to beats at times steady and other times erratic, only to be roused by the quiet revelation Akaashi was having now.  
  
“Should I take my volleyball collection?”  
  
Akaashi blinked up at Bokuto, who had his arms crossed and was frowning at the path ahead like he was physically walking through a problem.  
  
“Your volleyball collection?”  
  
“You know – key chains and soft toys and stuff. I don’t know if I should take them with me when I move so I can always look at them, or keep them at home where I know they’ll be safe.”  
  
Practicality kicked his brain into gear. “Speaking from personal experience, there’s no guarantee your belongings will be safe at home. You never know when they might be thrown out.”  
  
Bokuto lifted his head, eyes widening. “You’re right! I should take them with me!”  
  
“On the other hand, you might end up too intoxicated to stop a friend from destroying your beloved collection by spilling wine all over them.”  
  
“It wasn’t wine, it was grape juice!” Bokuto turned to him. “You were drunk when I did that?”  
  
“Of course not, I was ill – I was creating a more relevant situation to match your future setting. And while I appreciated you coming to visit to see how I was – which you should avoid doing so you don’t get ill yourself – you should be more careful when you’re in someone else’s room.”  
  
It wasn’t that Akaashi was messy, but being ill, he hadn’t had the energy to upkeep his room, stacks of manga growing around his bed to pass the time between sleep and deliriously staring at the ceiling or outside his window. Bokuto had kicked one tower over, which knocked another over, which he tried to stop from collapsing to the ground while holding the open bottle of grape juice he’d been drinking.  
  
“I said I’m sorry – and I replaced them all!”  
  
Bokuto had indeed; a week after Akaashi returned to school, he opened his locker to find mangas dogged, yellowed and a little grubby along the edges (and in the back of one, a receipt for a volleyball shirt from two years ago) with three combini onigiris and the note _SORRY!!!_ on top.  
  
And it was memories like this that made his now-awake resident pinch the inside walls of his heart to remind him of the name of his emotion.  
  
Akaashi wondered if he could be evicted.  
  
And if so, how he could be evicted.  
  
…But did he want him to leave, was the question.  
  
“Talking of moving, one of my classmates, he’s preparing to head up to Hokkaido to study.”  
  
“Is he now,” Akaashi casually threw his reply. He was too used to Bokuto’s switches in conversation to be surprised, and after weighing the importance between their current topic and his internal fluster, he’d decided to lend Bokuto only half an ear.  
  
“He was talking about how everything was done except for one last thing.”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Confess to the girl he likes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends to lovers | ~~clothes sharing~~ | ~~neighbour au~~
> 
> Star Gazer by Spitz  
> [Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SC6fWmtzGf0) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/7B5Xbgcznf99Vost2DtBHS?si=BHwGKNtYQUimhtRr8dXNDw)

**Part II: Naming  
**

_Searching for a star on a night solitude makes me blue  
If you’re not here tomorrow, what will I do, what will I do  
_—Spitz, “Star Gazer” 

To Akaashi, Bokuto was—  
  
A: A (star) captain. Inspiration personified. A couple of months ago, Akaashi might have said Bokuto lacked the consistency to make him an all-rounded captain, but there had been a turning point during nationals where he acquired the last trait. Bokuto dedicated his time even after Akaashi received the title, attending practice to offer advice and instruction on what he’d learnt and found useful. He asked to write the club notes for the last few sessions – waving Akaashi away to wait outside – and Akaashi could only guess by the smudged fingerprints and erased scores how Bokuto had filled the pages.  
  
B: A (sunny) senpai. Putting aside whether his action contained or lacked common sense, Bokuto had the heart to directly help anyone who asked, and indirectly anyone who didn’t. Again, in recent months, Akaashi approached him more regularly as he researched universities and life paths that ran parallel now but would soon split into their respective directions. Bokuto already knew the process, had seen others take it, and he explained to Akaashi (in his usual beaming way) what he should note.  
  
C: A (stellar) friend. For all the times Akaashi cared – sheltering Bokuto (and his hair) from the rain with his umbrella, agreeing to be a second set of eyes for his work – Bokuto cared equally back – surprising him with yakisoba bread, lending him the week’s manga magazine. However, out of the three, Akaashi was most reluctant to apply this label. It aligned them horizontally rather than vertically, and he wasn’t sure if he should be so bold as to assign himself to this level when he was subordinate in so many ways.  
_  
“Confess to the girl he likes.”  
_  
The word ‘confess’ triggered his pulse to quicken, and for him to consider why this particular word disturbed the conversational flow for him.  
  
Was he closing in on a fourth option waiting around the corner, down a rockier path filled with traps and potholes, to test his wits and mettle and aptitude—  
  
Where were his thoughts heading? Definitely somewhere towards the realms of fantasy.  
  
“Is that so,” Akaashi said levelly to flatten his feelings.  
  
“He went straight to the classroom next door and asked – and she said yes! Obviously everyone was congratulating him, but then one friend asked why he bothered if they were heading to different universities – they aren’t even going to be on the same island!”  
  
“How did he respond?”  
  
“He said he’d rather find out it didn’t work than not know if it would’ve.”  
  
“That’s brave of him.”  
  
“He’s a real go-getter.”  
  
Like a certain someone Akaashi knew, though he kept the thought to himself. “It’s that time of year when people realise they have nothing to lose.” Akaashi could imagine Bokuto’s fans asking for his button on graduation day or handing over an envelope that contained a single sheet with all their feelings crammed within just ten lines. “Maybe you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of one,” he added more quietly.  
  
The ache he felt was similar to someone elbowing him in the ribs, except from the inside.  
  
“I’d have to have spent a lot of time with that person to say yes,” Bokuto said, sounding thoughtful.  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“’Cause I wouldn’t be sure I’d be able to keep a relationship going. Say it was someone I didn’t know, it wouldn’t matter if they came into my life when they weren’t already because I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. But if it was someone I knew, then I’d really notice if they stopped being in my life, and I’d be able to see whether I wanted to be with them.”  
  
“That’s a mature way of looking at things.”  
  
“I dunno. I think it’s just normal.”  
  
There was that phrase again, the one Bokuto was so insistent to use recently.  
  
Bokuto threaded his fingers together and stretched up to the sky. “But I’d probably end up saying something before them.”  
  
“Given your character, I find that more likely.”  
  
“You’d think so, right?! But I haven’t yet.”  
  
“Wait” – Akaashi whipped his head to Bokuto – “you actually like someone?” He threw the question without thinking; he hoped the urgency in his voice wasn’t audible.  
  
Bokuto dropped his arms to his sides with a slap. “I like being with him. I like doing things with him and doing things for him. I like listening to what he has to tell me, and I always think of him first when I have something to say…” He dropped his gaze to the ground.  
  
Akaashi knew Bokuto leaned both ways in his orientation, with heavier weight on the opposite compared to Akaashi’s sway – this wasn’t the issue. The issue was that it was the first time Bokuto had mentioned anything. And no matter how long Akaashi stared, Bokuto didn’t turn; it didn’t seem deliberate, more likely he’d sunk into contemplation and had no idea he was being watched.  
  
What if Bokuto – no, no – Akaashi couldn’t get ahead of himself. Bokuto was always surrounded, many among them on a daily basis. He could be talking about anyone.  
  
And Akaashi… he’d found his star. He was content to be an astronomer. _He was_. Who’d want to be an astronaut, when there was no promise of ever reaching the star – and even if he did, the most he could do was drift past, unable to set foot on its surface.  
  
His resident kicked up a fuss, the disquiet filling his chest to a racket demanding who Akaashi was trying to fool, because it certainly wasn’t himself. Akaashi held out for as long as possible before quietly spilling—  
  
“Who—”  
  
“Akaashi—”  
  
A great thud, and a tremor—  
  
“—do you believe there’s someone out there for you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~hurt/comfort~~ | ~~sick days/illness/recovery~~ | soulmates ~~au~~
> 
> Pretender by Official HIGE DANdism  
> [Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQ8WlA2GXbk) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/58dxGXavrcagRqA58fNB0Z?si=c_p-d0N3TH-Ho8jkmne9FA)

**Part III: Connecting**

_Then what are you to me?  
I don’t have the answers, don’t even want to know what they are  
But if there’s to be a single sure thing, it’s that  
“You’re beautiful”  
_—Official HIGE DANdism, “Pretender”

Akaashi wouldn’t say he believed in the concept of red threads (but neither could he prove its non-existence, so he couldn’t completely rule this out), nor of moles appearing on identical places on soulmates’ bodies (although Bokuto did once point out they both had two identically placed moles just above and to the outside of their right elbow, which made Akaashi wonder a) the significance of the shape and location should this truly be a soulmate-identifier, and b) what exactly went on inside Bokuto’s head for him to claim this observation).  
  
But contrary to his controlled verbal responses, his body wasn’t as reserved to react, and Akaashi was attuned to its calls.  
  
Take his reactions when he first saw Bokuto spiking the ball. The awe that sent a chill down his spine and froze him to the spot from seeing a person take off and fly. The dizzy wonder at seeing an aurora of expressions veiling the glowing white dots of emotional planets visible when the waving curtains revealed patches of clear sky (but the planetary system was light-years out of reach for him to examine their compositions, and even as he watched, they may already have disappeared, with another forming elsewhere, to be discovered another time.)  
  
In other words, despite appearing to be bogged down in the logistics of this tangible world, he trusted the music created by intuition playing his body when meeting certain people, compared to the silence with most.  
  
So when Bokuto asked him—  
  
_“Do you believe there’s someone out there for you?”_  
  
—Akaashi felt a strong pull to draw closer – which he resisted by keeping his eyes to the pavement and staring his feet down. And a perfect note rang through his bones, which he couldn’t place the meaning of but understood its significance, soundless and only felt by the rush causing hairs on his arms to stand on end and his insides to flip.  
  
“Like a soulmate,” Bokuto explained; he probably thought Akaashi taking his time to answer meant he didn’t understand.  
  
(He didn’t. He had no idea where this conversation was going.)  
  
Akaashi turned to find Bokuto with his bag hanging off his forehead, though his head was tilted Akaashi’s way, watching.  
  
“Do you believe he’s your soulmate?”  
  
“I asked first.”  
  
Akaashi returned to looking ahead; not because he was uncomfortable, just the nature of the topic required his thoughts to remain his, and not what he thought Bokuto might want to hear.  
  
“Do you mean that romantically or platonically?”  
  
Akaashi didn’t know why he needed to convolute the simple ‘yes’.  
  
“Does it matter?” Bokuto had picked up on it.  
  
“…I suppose not.” He inhaled and released a breath. “Between yes and no, I’d be inclined to answer yes.” He then looked up at the sky to see if it inspired something of substance to add.  
  
It was cloudy.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“Just one or many?” There was an important classifier.  
  
“Hmm…” Another side-glance and Bokuto was also searching for answers in the sky. “I’ll have to think about it.” Bokuto pulled the bag off his head and threw the strap over and across his body, then turned back to Akaashi. “What about you?”  
  
Akaashi returned to looking ahead. Again, this wasn’t from discomfort, just that he was tempted to give an equally vague answer instead of speaking his mind, and this was easier to do when he wasn’t looking directly at that gaze pinning him down.  
  
But he could still feel it on him, so he gave up trying to cheat.  
  
“Many, would be more likely.”  
  
“I get that,” Bokuto agreed breezily, batting away Akaashi’s negativity before it had time to latch, the reward for speaking his mind. “You meet too many people who’re important to you for them not to be soulmates. Which do you think we are?”  
  
Akaashi’s jerked his head up. “We?”  
  
Bokuto stared, unaffected. “You said romantically or platonically – obviously the distinction means something to you, else you wouldn’t have asked. So which do you think we are?”  
  
Akaashi’s pulse quickened. Was Bokuto aware of the gravity of his implication by defining their relationship as ‘soulmates’? Was this how confessions happened? Through peeling layers of philosophy to find a deceptively casual question at its core? And why was it he had to determine their status?  
  
“…You didn’t answer my initial question.”  
  
“Didn’t I?” Bokuto glanced aside, frowning as he replayed the conversation; his frown cleared with the sharp suck of breath. “You’re right! In that case – he’s definitely my soulmate. Or at least one of them, if there’re many. One of the important ones.”  
  
Akaashi clutched his bag strap at Bokuto’s answer; while he managed to dodge the question, playing on Bokuto’s sportsmanship to do so, a new problem arose of there being one soulmate or two in Bokuto’s life. Why had he made things difficult by saying there could be many?  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Easily. But I don’t think you can split soulmates into your two categories, they’re more complicated than that. Though if I really had to choose, I’d say we’re platonic – oh—” Bokuto turned and blinked at him. “I just gave it away.”  
  
Which one, that their relationship was platonic, or that he liked him?  
  
“I only say we’re platonic,” Bokuto carried on without a hitch, “’cause when I hear ‘romantic’, I think about the physical side of things – like kissing – so it’s hard for me to say we’re romantic when I don’t know what it’s like doing those things with you.”  
  
Bokuto wrapped both answers into one sentence without Akaashi even having to list the delicate ways of wording his question.  
  
“Does that make sense?”  
  
It didn’t. None of this made sense.  
  
So Akaashi focused on the statement before that, the definition of ‘romantic’. He, too, liked the touch of another, and being touched in return. He liked their body’s warmth, the physical comfort and assurance that what he was experiencing – how the other was feeling towards him – was real. And he supposed he couldn’t accurately say they were romantic, no matter how much he wished for it to be true, if he didn’t know his body’s reactions to touching Bokuto post-revelation.  
  
“I… have to say, I agree with you.”  
  
Bokuto lit up. “Right?!”  
  
But wait.  
  
Would it be an accurate measurement? Between his mind and his heart, couldn’t they warp his instinct so it played modulating to his desire – that he and Bokuto were matched in perfect harmony? The emotional and mental, once merged, could work against him, tweak his body’s pitch half a notch to give the false impression he was at the crest, one that gave the air of matching the frequency emitted by Bokuto, when in fact he’d slid to the trough and was out of tune with his – and as a result Bokuto’s – natural resonance.  
  
So if he couldn’t trust his heart or mind or instinct, what did that leave?  
  
…Maybe he was only to approach and orbit during high school, and once he fulfilled his role, he would be thrown off course and sent in the opposite direction.  
  
What was he thinking, even considering soulmates to actually be true—  
  
“—ago?”  
  
Akaashi shook his head to disperse the thoughts. “I’m sorry, can you say that again?”  
  
“I said, do you think we should give it a go?”  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> practice kissing/kissing lessons/truth or dare | ~~cooking/baking~~ | ~~royal au~~
> 
> embrace by BUMP OF CHICKEN  
> [Video](https://www.nicovideo.jp/watch/sm27038495) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/2EUa4FQvmjnoKzfrBsOksk?si=z5cN3i5zQbCGxTRHNCws1A)

**Part IV: Kissing**

_Come into my arms, we’ll kiss  
at a place where ugly truths are spun  
In a world without life, you, like me,  
were searching for a living someone  
  
Come into my heart, don’t be afraid, and come here  
All we did was stumble on a living someone  
  
All that’s known for certain is tender, comforting warmth  
_—BUMP OF CHICKEN, “embrace”

Akaashi had been fifteen. After the chime filled the corridors to rattle classroom doors, he casually asked the girl two seats diagonally in front if he could have a private word. He packed his mechanical pencil into his pencil tin, along with his red pen, and ruler, and rubber, lining their edges flush with each other, and reviewed his notebook page by page back to the front cover; a glance and she was checking her planner, marking – or pretending to – things done and not done. By the time they put their belongings into their bags, they were alone.  
  
His question was a direct ‘would you be interested in dating’, and her reply was a blushing ‘yes’.  
  
It was during a karaoke date, while she was picking the song, that he leaned in. Buttered-pancake lip balm as synthetically tasting as it smelt. Upbeat, off-key, recent-hit single leaking from the walls. Awkward manoeuvring of lips – by him – and she laughed, jabbing his ego, but he persisted over the days for it to start feeling good for both.  
  
Exam revision pushed itself in and she chose that, over him. Despite the hollowness, he was relieved she broached the subject first so he wouldn’t have to.  
  
_“I said, do you think we should give it a go?”_  
  
Now he was snuck snug in the shadows of an alley with Bokuto’s hands on his shoulders; the initial escape-preventing talon-grip had loosened to secure him, support him in place, and Akaashi, he stood still as his mind whirred through how they would do this, if he could do it right, if he remembered how to do it right, and all the things that would go wrong if he didn’t—  
  
“I’m going to do it,” Bokuto announced, confidence crashing into his anxiety to make it scatter.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
“Not really, no.”  
  
Akaashi felt Bokuto’s fingers dig into his shoulders again.  
  
“We don’t have to do this.”  
  
“I just need a moment.”  
  
The grip loosened. “Take all the time you need, Akaashi. Tell me when you’re ready.”  
  
What would happen if they kissed?  
  
A: Mutual aversion. “Doesn’t feel right—” “No, it doesn’t—” and they would continue onwards home. Akaashi would probably fall asleep to thoughts on whether they’d made the right choice, and tomorrow, they would see each other and know they had.  
  
B: One-sided attraction/aversion. Bokuto would grow thoughtful – not sullen, he didn’t do that anymore – if Akaashi pushed him away, and the degree of affection would determine the duration of their intentional distance. They would go back to normal… probably. And if Bokuto pushed him away, Akaashi would likely crush his resident with his will until the stifling pressure forced him out, and he would seal all gaps to prevent future break-ins. They would go back to normal, he… maybe not.  
  
C: Mutual attraction. Maybe they would reattempt to confirm. And they would reconvene tomorrow having slept on it (or not, Akaashi would likely be thinking for at least half, if not the whole night), where they would reattempt some more to reconfirm that they had been right.  
  
Of course, this was assuming Akaashi didn’t put a stop to this now. But stopping was the most uncertain of routes, because he would spend his life wondering. (Wandering.)  
  
“I’m ready.”  
  
“That wasn’t even two seconds! You can take longer to decide!”  
  
“I’d like to do it now.”  
  
Bokuto took a moment to stare – not at him, through _into_ him, trying to determine if Akaashi meant it – and then started leaning in; Akaashi watched, wondering how it would feel when their lips touched—  
  
“Akaashi,” Bokuto said, pausing. “Are you scared?”  
  
His hands were trembling slightly, and he could barely hear Bokuto over his heartbeat.  
  
“I’m slightly nervous, but no more than when I’m standing in line at the start of a match. Why?”  
  
“Your eyes are open.”  
  
…Maybe there was an element of fear. How Bokuto would react. What would happen to them.  
  
But really, having seen all of Bokuto’s expressions so far, Akaashi simply wanted to know how he would appear at times more intimate.  
  
“So are yours.”  
  
Maybe Bokuto’s feelings were the same, and he wanted to see what he’d never seen before.  
  
“I’m the one leaning in. I need to see so I don’t miss.”  
  
Or maybe he was just being practical.  
  
“I can close them if it makes you uncomfortable—”  
  
Bokuto quickly shook his head. “It doesn’t.” He tightened his grip again. “Are you still ready?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
And Bokuto continued forward, closer – eyes open – a blink – gaze dipping, and then—  
  
—he kissed him.  
  
Bokuto didn’t taste of anything. There was a faint fragrance, grapefruit and mint, the deodorant Bokuto used that lingered in the locker room but was now fading into the distance, just like the world around him; he couldn’t remember where he was, what he had been doing, who he was, how he had been living up until this point because all he saw was Bokuto.  
  
The thumping inside was like someone banging on the door asking to be let out – must have been, because he was already in – unless he was demanding to be let in through a secret door that led to a chamber deeper where he could settle more comfortably; permanently.  
  
Bokuto closed his eyes; Akaashi felt lips move against his own, tasting. (Testing.)  
  
Akaashi slowly raised his hand, stretching his fingers so he could brush just a few of those stray silver strands…  
  
Bokuto pulled away before Akaashi could reach him – opening his eyes again, releasing his hold on—  
  
“Wait—”  
  
Akaashi snatched his wrist – Bokuto’s hand clenched, and then unfurled to a strained looseness; the rhythm he had caught was sacred, Bokuto’s life quivering as well as it pulsed strong into his palm.  
  
“People describe kissing to be electrifying.” Akaashi glanced to him. “I didn’t feel any spark or tingling.”  
  
Bokuto shook his head. “Me neither.”  
  
“My heart is pounding fast against my chest and my lungs are so tight they feel like they might explode – I can’t control my body’s trembling. Exactly how I feel after our matches.”  
  
“Same.”  
  
“Doesn’t that signal an end?”  
  
Bokuto blinked at him, his expression closed.  
  
An end to what?  
  
Akaashi wasn’t sure they were destined for each other. He wasn’t sure they could last a whole lifetime – he was barely sure they could last another minute – though with Bokuto, he felt...  
  
But right now he was focused on this moment, and he slid his gaze back onto Bokuto’s hand, his own grip around the thick wrist tight – too tight – but he didn’t want to loosen it – but he did, to slide his hand up, halfway to covering Bokuto’s hand—  
  
Bokuto’s fingers curled to gently wrap Akaashi’s thumb – a firm promise.  
  
(...Or something like that.)  
  
“Bokuto-san.”  
  
“What, Akaashi?”  
  
Akaashi looked to him, stared at him – through _into_ him – and he thought the dot of light reflected in his eyes belonged to that of a wandering star, one that had remained undiscovered – until now.  
  
“Can we try that again?”

  
**End of Side A.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> touch (cuddling, hand holding, huddling for warmth) | ~~bed sharing~~ | ~~bakery au~~
> 
> short hair by Base Ball Bear  
> [Video](https://vimeo.com/35868651) / [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/1aBrTPZmwUcGWX35lxJWFt?si=ZEYT761-TWKqJOM-03x0xQ)

**Side B**

**Touching**

_I never want it changing, me watching  
you, always changing  
So much is lost, time runs its course  
But even so, I am waiting for you_  
—Base Ball Bear, “short hair”

The sky was a ripening peach, unblemished and almost ready to be eaten.  
  
It was weird going home while light outside, with practice shifted to the day for the summer holidays. It was also weird to be walking as one big group instead of breaking off in twos and threes at the locker room.  
  
For once, Bokuto wasn’t leading. It was Akaashi at the front talking with Onaga, though he couldn’t hear them from this far back, on-going conversations filling the gap between them.  
  
This was how next year would look from the position of a straggling first year, the two kouhais – the new leaders – guiding everyone onward to victories. The noise level would be about the same too, some of the younger members were as lively as him, but the differences between him and Akaashi would be huge; Akaashi was calmer, let his mind rule more than his emotions, raised his voice only when necessary, and everyone silenced themselves on the first try despite his order barely reaching the gym walls compared to Bokuto’s that spilled over.  
  
Akaashi stepped into a spread of honey-apricot glow that cast darker shadows along his profile so he looked slimmer, the lines of his eyes grew sharper, the flattening curls due for a cut lay flatter – suddenly Bokuto was looking into the future.  
  
The sight touched his heart – stopped it; a delayed thud shuddered through him to knock him breathless. It was the same as when he felt the pat on his shoulder, having not heard his own name. The brush across his arm as a finger came to point out a problem in his homework’s answer. The clasp around his hand to pull him out of his huddle and back onto his feet.  
  
“You’re quiet today.”  
  
Bokuto glanced to find Yukie keeping pace next to him, munching on a granola bar.  
  
“I guess. I’m—”  
  
How was he supposed to bundle all the ways his insides – his gut, his nerves, his blood, his lungs, his heart – had been pulled and gripped and pumped and squeezed and struck – into a single word?  
  
And as he tried to unravel the thread of his current state from a great tangled ball of emotions, only one grew—  
  
Frustration.  
  
He looked to Akaashi. Back in the shade, Akaashi had lost that glow, shadows ironically highlighting his prone-to-thinking (sinking) mood.  
  
“Hungry?”  
  
A granola bar came floating in front of his face.  
  
He… wasn’t. He didn’t think so – his stomach felt too knotted, though there was a hollowness near it, gnawed away by a… _yearning_.  
  
He took it though, appreciating the gesture. “I’ll pay you back.”  
  
“This one’s on me.”  
  
He tore open the plastic packet, pushed the bar out. “Is this how it’s supposed to feel?”  
  
“Hmm? How what feels?”  
  
“Stepping back. No – stepping down?” Right then he couldn’t remember which was which, didn’t want to think about it or how the rest of him was feeling, so he stuffed the bar into his mouth and tore a chunk off; he couldn’t taste a flavour, only sweetness, and he chewed slowly to let it consume him as he consumed it.  
  
“Both allow others to pass, and help you to see how far you’ve come or where you need to go next.”  
  
From the corner of his eye he could see Yukie slowing beside him; he did the same, coming to a halt beside her.  
  
“Or make you stop.”  
  
His chewing slowed; he swallowed. “Do I need to?”  
  
Yukie paused bringing the granola bar to her mouth. “It can help you acknowledge that others move ahead – and away. That it’s time for you to move elsewhere.”  
  
Back ahead, the group was too immersed to realise they’d lost two – going unmissed – _he_ wasn’t missed – and it chilled him, to think he would be wiped from Akaashi’s view, a fondly remembered flash during practice.  
  
“I don’t want to.”  
  
He was selfish. He wanted to light up so bright Akaashi would see him long after he was gone, a fixed afterimage in his ever-changing world.  
  
“Then catch up. You won’t meet at the same place or be the same people, but maybe there’s something bigger waiting for you when you reach him.”  
  
Yukie bit into her snack and started walking.  
  
Her last word clicked—  
  
“Yukippe—!”  
  
“I can’t hear you over my delicious, crunchy granola—!”  
  
Bokuto stood, left behind and – he dashed for it, past her to the group, pushing between Konoha and Washio, through the path opened up by Kaori and Sarukui, knocking his shoulder into Komi to send him flying and he reached out—  
  
Akaashi turned his head when Bokuto gripped his shoulder. “Bokuto-san? What’s wrong?”  
  
He – hadn’t thought this far.  
  
He noticed the other voices growing quieter, and he shot a glance behind to find everyone falling back, Onaga trying to sympathise with a fuming Komi while Konoha laughed at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder almost like he was holding him back; he caught Bokuto’s eye – pointedly slipped his gaze onto Akaashi then back to him – or so Bokuto thought, it was hard to tell with the growing darkness.  
  
He turned to Akaashi. “You’re gonna be an amazing captain, you know that? You’ll be even better than me.”  
  
Akaashi blinked – and frowned at him. “Why are you talking like you’re stepping down? Is there something you’re not telling me?”  
  
“No! I had a thought about next year, and how amazing you’ll be, but I won’t be here to see you.”  
  
The frown only deepened. “Aren’t you staying in Tokyo? And you’re always insisting you’ll visit.”  
  
“I will! I just don’t want to visit to find you’ve forgotten all about me.”  
  
A blink and Akaashi’s eyes glazed over, a blink and he was back, like his mind had shot off around the world (or maybe it had been inspecting thoughts frozen in time) (or _maybe_ it just crashed and thought nothing) – whatever was happening, Bokuto thought Akaashi had sussed him out, had read the lines, as well as between and behind, and could tell exactly what he himself had yet to truly grasp.  
  
“I don’t think anyone could forget you, Bokuto-san. Least of all me.”  
  
It was what Bokuto wanted to hear and also it wasn’t, but as he prodded Akaashi to say exactly what about him he’d remember most, Bokuto thought this was enough – for now.

**End of Side B.**


End file.
